


double edged

by JanuaryBlue, tsukishimmy



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Anal, Anal Sex, Begging, Double Penetration, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Hate Sex, Light Dom/sub, Light Masochism, Married Couple, Multi, Pegging, Scratching, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesomes, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:14:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28023000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanuaryBlue/pseuds/JanuaryBlue, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsukishimmy/pseuds/tsukishimmy
Summary: Unlike his blade, Zenos's wife is double-edged
Relationships: Zenos yae Galvus/Original Character(s), Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light, Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 17





	double edged

**Author's Note:**

> Ifritah/Ifrit is my oc, Light is januaryblue's WOL! Pre-established relationship with Zenos/OC from my fic/series "slithered here from eden"
> 
> if you enjoyed leave a comment or a kudo or sacrifice an egg in our honour. any of these three options will do.
> 
> join me and my comrades: https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic

Life has a way of making itself difficult for anyone calling themselves a hero. 

Light wasn't at all unfamiliar with that. Sometimes you show up to secret rendezvous with the wives of enemy leadership, but her husband shows up, too.

Sometimes words are exchanged and someone pulls a weapon. Maybe it had been her. Maybe someone else. Who knows, really. But generally when someone draws a weapon, the others follow - including the frustratingly powerful person you didn't show up to deal with.

Sometimes a person attacks. It just happens sometimes. If it had been her, she definitely didn't remember what started it. But she certainly knew how she wanted to end it.

Even withdrawing from a distance and forcing Zenos to come to her, she was having trouble - Ifritah didn't quite have the limitations of her husband, whipping out a length of sharp leather that cracked loud and close in the air just by her.

It would have been something to worry about - but Zenos shot her a glare, visible even at a distance, plunged his sword into the ground - Concentractivity - and the reverberations of force shook throughout the field, stunning even Light and giving himself an opportunity to approach.

She readies for a melee - if Zenos wants a fight up close and personal, he can have one, against a real Samurai, to boot. _Pathetic_ \- gods, she wanted to shove his face into the dirt and grind it there more than she'd wanted anything in her entire life.

There is, however, a witness to their battle; and not an impartial one, either.

Besides curiosity, Ifritah wanted to understand. She wanted to understand what was keeping Zenos from her, who this warrior of light was, and why they were so important. 

Day and night she would hear of this warrior, their skills and capability. How _they_ truly made his heart race, a borderline morbid sense of love. It sickens her. It irritates her more than she is willing to admit. The thought haunts her, lingering in the shadows and tormenting her at night. So when the opportunity arrived to see this Warrior of Light in all her glory, Ifritah seized it with the passion of a madman.

The part of the helpless bride is one she took. Despite this lie being very far from the truth, it was easy to manipulate the good hearts of the resistance to her will. She plays them like puppets, pulling their strings with fake sobs and tears, lies about mistreatment. She watches them dance to her tune, their pity choreographed by her song. That was the thing about heroes. They were so willing to help, they could never identify a snake in the grass. 

Tired of being the shadow in the palace, she longs to be the fire that raged and burned it to the ground. Yet even if she did, he would still not deign her with an ounce of care. She wants to kill the Warrior of Light. Perhaps to anger Zenos. Perhaps to garner his attention. Yet, moments spent with this hero of light, she sees the charisma, the charm. She **understands.**

When they arrive at the location, with the guest of honor already present, she feels her heart jump. She would not let Zenos take the Warrior of Light, she would deny him that pleasure - she had to. For no other reason than Light was hers and hers only. The same way Zenos was hers, but had yet to realize it. Poor thing. 

The whip snaps between the two mere seconds before their blades meet. The leather cracks the air and she commands their attention.

“I grow tired of this fighting!” She yells, and once more she cracks her whip to wrap around Zenos's katana, stilling his blade. He could easily throw her, but his grip is static.

“Is this all you two do when you see one another?” She turns to Zenos, who seems amused by her intrusion. “Is this the root of your obsession?”

"Yes." "What else!" Two voices ring in unison, though Ifritah continues to speak.

“And you-“ her attention turns to Light. “I will not let you kill him. He is mine to kill, and mine only. As you are mine to kill.”

Zenos pulls sharply on his sword, tugging the whip hard enough that Ifritah is sent stumbling forward - a curved blade sings through the air, severing the material as Light rushes to meet him, weapon already drawn. 

"Then I'll save you the finishing blow!" She barks back, swinging her sword in a wide arc, only for Zenos to clash upon it in the last possible moment. "Die already."

First he shows her up in the Reach, now this? Smirking as if this was all a game to him, as if vastly entertained by the scrambling and barking of his hounds before him. His skin is so soft, fine, unmarked - her hand aches to cup it in her palm and crunch the front of his skull, see him bruised and bloody.

And she can't and he _knows_ it, he presses her back, not with ease - not anymore - but she does slide back, the crack of the whip heavy in the air, Ifritah's fierce demands, Zenos's very presence before her is like an impending weight, pale blue eyes brightening in interest, satisfaction - 

Light hadn't ever wanted to rip a man's face off before. Not this _viscerally._ She braces herself, pressing her other hand against her sword, bearing it back against him, snarling as Zenos's smile grows, as she still cannot repel him.

"You would see me dead? Make it so, yourself, savage - if you are able." It's less a taunt and more of a goad, as if he truly wouldn't mind if she could and it burns to know that he probably doesn't.

Zenos looks for all the world as if he’s enjoying his night out - and here she is, fighting and scrambling for any scrap of leverage against him. He'd never had to struggle a day in his life. Rage flashes hot again, drives her forward, and Zenos's blade inches back.

An indignant fury stirs within Ifritah at the sight of the two returning to their battle, ignoring her demands. 

What was even worse was the way Light made to protect her as if she would not be able to stand her own ground. That she was just a thing to be protected. To be fought over. Like a medallion.

Anger rises from the pit of her stomach, wedging itself into her throat as she charges forward towards the both of them. When Zenos's sword hangs in midair and Light is distracted, Ifritah tackles the Warrior of Light to the ground. Zenos's blade barely misses them, a single strand of black hair slicing at the impact.

“Enough Ifritah.” Zenos's voice, ever bored and indifferent, now holds the slightest hint of annoyance in it. She is in his way, interrupting his battle. “Move or I shall kill you as well.”

“Then kill me.” 

She watches him ploy behind brilliant blue eyes. How cursed she had become for this man, her very soul tempered to his will. He could kill her, it would be easy, it would not stain his conscience - she does not think it so. She had seen him kill without regard before. 

Ifritah doesn’t wait for the sword to drop and execute years of friendship; instead her eyes fall back upon Light. She straddles the warrior's hips to keep her ground. His object of desire... the thing that takes him away from her. Perhaps if she conquered it, he would care for her once more. 

Cupping Light’s face, she leans forward until their lips meet. Her kiss is tender and warm, one you would give to your other half. But it becomes demanding, violent even, as she pulls Light ever closer to her.

It's not everything Light ever wanted, the way Ifritah looks at her - if she's looking at her at all, and not straight past her into some abstract desire, if she's not thinking about what this says to _him_ , if this isn't some move in her dance with a man who kills as easily as he draws breath - but she’ll take it anyways, parting her lips and meeting the kiss with equal fervor and desire.

Zenos watches in something that might be interest, but grows bored soon enough; he can't see either of their faces from this angle, Ifritah's hair falling over it as a curtain, her tail swaying with frenetic energy. All he sees of Light is an arm that raises to wrap around his wife’s svelte waist, settling at the small of her back.

A step or two, and then he takes a knee, for they are too far below him for his sword to reach standing. He raises it and brings it down in a terrible arc with more than enough force to sever both of them in two -

And as expected, he does not; Light deflects the blow. 

What comes unexpected is how she pounces - the fury in her eyes - rolling Ifritah beneath her, seizing Zenos by the collar of his armor, using the proximity to grapple with him, slamming him to the ground. There is no pain but the impact ripples through his bones, makes him choke out a laugh even as Light half-crawls over Ifritah with a knife in her hand and an eye for his throat.

"Yes," He hums, more to himself than aught else but it is a delight like no other to see Light's lips curl into a snarl as she bears into him. She's not strong enough to bring her blade down on him, not heavy enough to pin him, but he sees, he sees, and where her arms strain against his grasp he feels how much stronger she could be, "Are you about to let her get in your way?"

Perhaps he speaks to his warrior of light - perhaps to his wife. Either way, it is his pleasure to discover, "Will you not kill me yourself?"

"Maybe if you could shut up and take it for five seconds," Light knows she's not strong enough yet, knows his monstrous strength all too well, but her pride refuses the insult.

From the ground beside them, Ifritah seethes. She’s had it for one fleeting moment, the thing she had been yearning for all this time; his gaze, his attention. The feeling that she still existed, that she was still alive. Yet, as soon as her back hits the ground, the wind ripped out from her lungs, that moment is gone.

So close, so close.

She was so close to having him again; to herself and no one else. But it was taken from her once more, by the same individual, for the same reason. She wants to scream in agony, tear at her hair and lose herself in the violence that made her blood boil with rage. Why was she so important? What does he see in her? What does she have that Ifritah cannot possess?

_Are you about to let her get in the way?_

Ifritah hears his laughter, his joy - his pleasure. And she realizes she never made him laugh like that. She never made him smile with such passionate ferocity. It makes her vision bleed crimson. And in a minute, she's upon both of them. 

A hand reaches out to drag Light off of Zenos, and she hears a dissatisfied groan from the viceroy at this. But she has her knee on his chest and her nails at his throat. With her tail, she grabs onto Light, letting the protruding scales dig into her wrist.

"Don't move," she growls.

She is less worried about Light and more about Zenos, pinned beneath her and deprived of his precious _prey._

Yet he does not move. No, he looks up at her with intrigue - with interest. He sees it in her eyes: the anger, the brewing rage that has her at his throat ready to tear it from his body. And she sees him, the look she had been looking for. The love - if she could call it that. And the anger does not fade, not completely. But she does kiss him, her nails digging into his throat to draw enough blood that it trails down his neck and stains perfectly golden locks.

And perhaps for a heartbeat they forget their company - but the warrior of light could hardly forget them. Light has rescued a lot of people who had made it difficult for her. She hasn't, as of yet, rescued someone determined to throw herself into the maw of a raging beast. First time for everything. 

_Don't move,_ she’d said. "Are you insane?"

It's probably a pointless question to ask, but between the sweet curl of the scales around her wrist and the sight of her clutching at him, pressing her lips to his like a woman starved, Light is some ways past reason.

She grasps at her tail and yanks it, there's hardly any time for gentility as she shoves them apart, glaring down as Zenos with every onze of vehemence present in her soul, "Give me a few minutes and I promise, he won't move ever again."

Zenos, predictably, laughs in her face, and when she sees the blood on his throat she jumps for it herself, grasping at the thick cords of muscle and sinew there and squeezing, to no avail as he crows, "You mean to kill me, hero? I have never felt more alive."

He catches Ifritah's eyes between meeting her gaze, watching the all that visceral fury he feels at his neck shine in her eyes. Lying beneath the warrior as if in a sea of flames, the thrill pounding through his blood with every beat of his heart, every breath he wrenches against her will; this is what it is to live.

With her hands occupied there is no resistance as he snakes a gauntlet into her hand, wrenching her towards his face as Ifritah watches, relishing the tense shock that flits through the flesh above him as well as the near-tangible wrath that emanates from beside them.

Light tastes like pain, and she wrenches back as if prodded by a hot iron - _Are you insane?_ rings through his mind but he does not mistake the look in her eyes for a moment, the fervor she shows that is reserved only for her battles with him, the ferocity, the tenacity.

The flames lap at him, surround him, and he will drown himself in them wherever he can.

Not again, _not again._

Once more Light takes him from her, just as she was there, just as she reached the destination she has been yearning for. It feels that she's drowning, suffocating on her own despair. The flame in her chest nearly snuffed by the sight of Zenos and Light. _No, no I won't let this happen_ . She will get his attention even if it kills her. She'd do _anything_.

Ifritah grabs Light before she can attack him, wedging herself between the two. No, stay away from one another, she thinks, and gently she cups Lights face in hers. Mismatched eyes search the warrior's, an attempt for her to let down her guard so that Ifritah can find a way to slither beneath the surface. A silent request to halt the fighting, to look at her.

Her touch is gentle at first: a soft peck to the side of lips. As the kiss grows deeper, her hands trail down to Light's neck, the grasp tight but not enough to startle. Ifritah's tail snakes its way to Zenos's neck, as he lies there still beneath them both. She hears his groan from behind, the protruding ridges of the black scales digging into the open wound of his neck. She knows he enjoys it, just from the sound, and it drives her deeper into Light.

Her hands release Light's neck and begin to trail down the warrior's body. They rest on her waist, and as she begins to trail kisses down Light's neck, she pulls at her shirt to release it, fingers wandering beneath the fabric. She tenderly massages the woman's sides before raising her hand to her chest, tongue and teeth working in union to leave marks behind. 

The tenderness she treats Light is a paradox to Zenos, beneath her. With every gesture closer to her, her tail tightens its grip around his neck, until she feels his fingers curl around the base.

Gentleness is the last thing Light had ever experienced on a battlefield and Ifritah wields it like a sword, disarming, piercing, feeling the heart race beneath her fingertips as she ghosts over the warrior's neck, makes herself at home with her body and hears her sigh in little, pleased noises, even as Zenos nearly wheezes from behind them. 

Light knows her touch, hot and wanting, on her cheeks, enflamed; where Ifritah kisses at her and touches with careful fingertips, holds but does not squeeze, wanders and explores. In turn her own hands roam, flit over Ifritah's waistband to tease at the scales that cover her hips, tracing the unfamiliar texture that covers soft flesh. Roaming, spreading over hips, thighs, diving under clothes and underclothes without reserve.

As Ifritah lays her chest bare she looks over her shoulder, at Zenos, who stares with hungry eyes at exposed skin, at how his wife lays her marks upon his warrior's willing body. He knows the heavy breaths, the glaze of her eyes, has seen her in her moments of greatest need, but not like this - not the vulnerability, the red that dusts her cheeks as she refuses to meet his gaze, drawing Ifritah closer, hands wandering further down.

His own hands are neither bound nor injured, not even as fluted sharpness rankles over his neck, friction against pricks and scratches - a pleasant nuisance, as much as Ifritah, herself. And he reaches upward, carefully, as though not to alarm; laying a hand over his wife's thigh above him, stroking it, even meeting where Light wanders beneath her panties, feeling how Ifirtah's legs tense and tighten with her intentions.

And _this_ is what she wanted. Attention all on her, as if a spotlight had been cast and she was the leading act. Ifritah smiles against Light's skin, teeth tugging on the supple flesh until purple blossoms beneath her tongue. 

She marks her across her collarbone, hands skillfully tugging the band around her breasts to expose them. Taking them into her palm, squeezing and teasing. One hand remains as another snakes down her waistband, a sharp nail tugging at the underclothes to gauge her performance on Light's breasts.

Zenos is behind her now, hands grasping her thighs as fingers drag up and down the fabric. She can feel his eyes on her - on them - so she does not bite back the moan at Light's wandering touch. 

Her mouth goes dry as her stomach begins to burn and wetness begins to seep through the cloth of her underclothes. The sound of her pleasure drives his fingers deeper into the flesh of her thighs, hands wandering up her hips to her waist until they rest upon her breasts, massaging them as he pulls her away from Light's neck so that her back rests upon his chest. 

It’s all a challenge to him, the throw of the gauntlet cast in the look he gives Light. Beckoning her to come and fight for what she wants, if she was willing. The grip of Ifritah's tail on his neck weakens significantly as Light's fingers work between her legs, sighs of satisfaction parting from the Au Ra's lips.

She loves this feeling, the warring attention between the two - that she has both of them in her grasp. Her hand still works between Light's thighs, the soft pads of her fingers finding the nub that will make her whine and squirm. Her other hand rests on the side of Zenos's face, cupping his cheek, as she turns to kiss the corner of his mouth.

Sounds this soft shouldn't come from a warrior's mouth - Zenos knows he's never heard them, imagined them, coming from his newest foe and yet they coat his ears, tender and high with neediness. Unfamiliar. Enticing.

When he tugs his wife back he stares up at her, watches her, watches her watch him as he gropes Ifritah's breasts, pulls her close and into a kiss while her fingers still flit over Light's clit, tearing her stoic face into winces of pleasure and arousal, gusts of wind sending her reeling in the face of his maniac glee. How much more will these moments show him? How much more until she is stripped bare, the sounds of her throat raw in desire, driven at last to base instinct and primal impulse.

Light watches them kiss, watches Ifritah catch Zenos's cheek in her hand and kiss at him, worming her fingers insistently against Ifritah's panties. Through the fabric, just above where her clit, Light rubs and rubs, gentle and insistent, catching wetness against the fabric, leaning in to trap Ifritah between the heat of her body and Zenos's.

The look she gives him pierces him far more thoroughly than any other; his heart races with unrestrained glee, fingers clenching against her thighs hard enough to leave bruises, clawing upwards to knead into her ass as he devours her moans.

Light's thighs part on either side of him, straddling his lower half, and impatiently she rips at his armor on the lower half, heat burning in her eyes as she works her fingers over Ifritah's crotch. She rips away his armor and he lets her, lets himself be exposed, too -

And moans into her mouth; Light spares no modesty or consideration for him, tearing open clothing and armor alike to reveal his own arousal. 

That he too must be revealed, his want made known; his erection throbs, pulses, even, in the open air, freed from its confines. He knows already he is hard beyond compare, but what means of fulfillment shall he find? He smiles into the kiss.

A good hunter knows when to wait.

Ifritah decides to ignore him, for now. Zenos could wait, she even suspects that greater part of his enjoyment was derived from seeing the two women work away at one another.

Her hand parts from Zenos's cheek, but her tail's grip remains steadfast around his neck. The ooze of blood against her scales and his throat would keep him alert and aroused while she focuses her attention on Light. She presses her clit between her index and ring, using her middle to stroke at the hood. Her pace quickens, feeling the tense and relaxation of muscles of her thighs.

As she works her fingers beneath her, Ifritah takes her free hand to skillfully remove the breastplate and armour from Light's chest. When fabric does not part, she digs her claws into it, tearing at the cotton until it bends to her will. A hand cups Light's breast as Ifritah's kisses once more trail down the collarbone. She takes her nipple into her mouth, her tongue drawing circles as she sucks on the soft flesh. She is gentle at first, swiping her tongue across to flick and tease.

Light hums at each kiss; the lick of flames, trickling down her neck, dancing with the heat of her pulse as overwhelming arousal threatens to consume - and the blue eyes of her foe regard her with unacceptable satisfaction. 

He watches it all - watches Light from over Ifritah's shoulder, watches how she gasps and keens at her touches, hunching over as Ifritah fingers her. His warrior clutches at Ifritah's blouse with her free hand, fingers curling over it.

As Ifritah continues her work Light tugs her neckline down, thoughtlessly tearing it open and sliding it down her shoulders as she rushes to grope her chest. As Ifritah kisses downwards she traces over her scales, outlining the patterns with prying, pressing fingertips that line out to her back, where Zenos can see Light exploring his wife.

Those eyes still don't blink, his smile doesn't waver; Zenos watches Light jerk into Ifritah's touch, he gets to hear the sounds she can't stop as nails draw hard lines against her from the inside, sharp pressure that sends her walls fluttering around those few fingers, clenching as they go deeper and deeper - as Ifritah engulfs her breast in liquid heat and her hand quivers over the other woman's clit, fumbling until she elects to draw a long scratch down Ifritah's back.

She locks eyes with Zenos as she does, letting him see her hand slip beneath Ifritah's waistband and ghost forward to tear the front of them open, ripping the panties to reveal her cunt, swollen in need. Light does almost wish Zenos could see it, see how much his wife drips for her.

But then Ifritah slides two fingers into her, teeth nipping and biting. Her digits curl inwards, catching at the perfect place to make Light squirm and whine. Her own chest aches something awful, the fabric of her underclothes soaked through. Her soft sighs a silent demand for Light to go faster, harder - to give her more. To bend her until she breaks. Perhaps a demonstration was in order. 

Her slow pace quickens when her fingers are thoroughly soaked by Light's pussy, and she drives her fingers deeper and harder into her. 

She wants to hear the sounds she makes, to hear the desire being known. For Zenos to hear that the object of his desire whimper and plead for _her_. She releases Light's tit from her mouth, her hand now grabbing onto the Warrior's neck, cupping her jaw and forcing her to look her in the eye as Ifritah pumps her fingers in and out of her.

"Tell me what you want. Who you want.”

Just feeling the hand clasping over her neck nearly steals Light’s breath away. Long, clawed fingers grasp her face, direct her gaze, demand her with eyes and words slide.

She paws with her knuckles at Ifritah's cunt, where Zenos cannot see, feels the fingers tightening on her neck and the other set that curls and thrusts into her below. 

"Fuck me," She whines, looking only at her - let Zenos think whatever he would about this exchange that held nothing for him, "More, Ifritah, I want your hands - your tail - _everything,_ **_please_ ** _."_

Ifritah is not one to torment, not with such obedient words, laced with that polite, needy desperation. But the request draws a laugh from her - her long, spaded tail had no shortage of spikes and was hardly as smooth or as fit for fucking as a cock. But the warrior is strong; Ifritah knows this well. Light would be able to withstand a little bit of pain, and perhaps even more.

Her nails do not dig too deep in Light's skin, only enough to leave red scratches where droplets of blood just bloom. She can feel where Light had scraped _her_ , the cut stinging, exposed to the open air as much as to her husband’s gaze. A sharp sensation that would leave someone hissing, but all the princess does is sigh.

"Such good manners~" Her tail unwraps itself from Zenos's throat before snapping down to strike him across the cheek. 

She can't see him, but from the way his cock twitches and he laughs softly, she knows she's broken skin. "Take notes, Zenos. Perhaps if you behave, I'll fuck you too."

"But for now..." The tail shifts side to side, in front of his face. "Lubricate my tail for me, will you?"

It’s almost surprising when he obliges. He takes the studded limb between his mouth, taking extra care to drag the sharp edges against salivating walls.

Light's face is still held in her grasp but in the corner of her gaze she sees Ifritah hit Zenos on the face with her tail, how he relishes in it - gods, if she didn't want it so badly inside her she'd ask her to keep it there, shove it down his throat and strangle him while they took their own pleasure from one another.

His hand snakes down to where Light's shaking grip rests. He parts Ifritah’s folds with two fingers, giving Light better access to his wife's clit. He feels the muscles constrict against his tight grip, a satisfied moan escaping her lips. When she pulls her tail from his mouth, he places a bloody kiss against the crook of her throat, teeth dragging against the skin.

"Behave," she warns. 

She pries Light open with her claws, first, stretching her so that the tail can slide in with ease. Zenos had done an excellent job, and the slick limb slides in with nearly no resistance, letting her delve deeper inside, through taut walls of muscle.

It wouldn’t do to fuck her in earnest until she’s accustomed to the barbed, scaled limb; once she’s fulling inside she thrusts slowly, relishing the growing sound of Light's pleasure as she picks up Ifritah's pace. She rubs at Light's clit with focused diligence as she thoroughly fucks her with her tail.

Light feels the folds by her fingers part, Ifirtah’s glistening sex bared to the air by thick, long digits that strain and curl over her darker flesh - Zenos, no doubt. She draws her hands higher, resting them on the upper parts of Ifritah's thigh, so that her thumbs hover over her clit, working dual circles over it, dipping downwards over her entrance for an occasional bit of moisture. She rubs near it at first, and then closes in as she's slicked up, sliding her fingers over the hood in smooth, fast motions.

From below - she nearly falls forward from the feel of it, how sharp spines press her open and delve into her, unyielding against her walls, sending her keening, eyes half-lidded as she pants, open-mouthed, pleading with her eyes. Her cunt clenches fruitlessly around it, every single pulse letting those points dig into her, and she leans forwards, fingers digging into Ifritah's thighs as the slow thrusts build up.

Zenos watches, saliva trailing from between his lips - flushed just barely red, somehow still terribly regal and beautiful despite his state. Another finger ventures, and, finding the space unoccupied, hooks itself into Ifritah's cunt, sinking easily into the wet heat that welcomes him as he hums his wicked satisfaction and brings another finger to spare, feeling how she parts so easily to accept him, aroused as she is. 

Light can only sneer at his touching and whine, hands clutching, thumbs jerking rapidly as Ifritah fucks her, tail dragging against her convulsing walls, shoving deep enough to make her choke on her own pleasure as Ifritah fondles still over her clit.

"Please - please, please, Ifritah, please - you're so good, you feel so good," Panting, she meets Zenos's eyes with a fury, "You fuck me so good - don't stop, **_harder_ **," She breathes, bending forward and crying out at another harsh thrust, leaning over her shoulder, nuzzling into her throat where Zenos had been.

Holding his gaze, she licks a line up and along where Zenos had kissed kiss, sucking on it, becoming frustrated as she has to part for heavy breaths - she gives it another lap, and a cursory nibble, glaring jealously still.

"Please, Ifritah," she whispers.

Ifritah’s throat contracts as Zenos's fingers enter her, and Light speeds up her pace. She holds back the moan that foams at the base of her chest, blooming larger with each precise stroke. Though she hardly makes a peep, her cheeks are dusted with red and her eyes full to the brim with desire. Oh she could sob just from the idea of this. Being worked and worshipped by two who spent too much time focusing on one another and not her.

“You’re doing so good~” Ifritah whispers back, her free hand carding through Light’s hair and holding her against her shoulder. She feels the way her pussy clenches and grips onto her tail, weeping as it slides out before welcoming it once more.

Light whines, breathy at the praise, working her fingers over the other woman’s clit as Ifritah runs into her, feeding her tail into her cunt, pulling it out, and she almost doesn't notice her move, the hand that strokes her drooling folds, but she does notice how Ifritah shudders and her sex throbs and swells with new girth - with him.

When Zenos’s patience begins to thin, Ifritah can tell. His fingers ram her harder and deeper into her, until she feels her body is being pushed forward by his thrusts. This time she can’t help but moan, but she does so beneath Light’s neck, where the skin can muffle the pleasure.

It’s no trouble to quell the beast’s thirst; she gathers the slick that drools freely from Light’s cunt to lubricate Zenos's cock. Coating him with gentle strokes, controlling Zenos's pleasure on a tight leash. 

When he withdraws his fingers she fills herself with him, slowly, carefully. The size is always alarming, even if it’s been multiple times, it still leaves an ache between her thighs and a pressure against her hips. 

Eyes flutter for a moment when Zenos rolls his hips forward, but she remains composed. Setting her jaw, teeth grinding one another to near dust as she feels Zenos fully enter her. She takes great caution in controlling her tone, her voice. She doesn't wish for him to know how desperately she wanted this.

Light, however, would sooner rip off that cock than let it inside her or Ifritah but her own pleasure overwhelms - closer, and closer, fluttering in her lower half as she nearly wails - the mounting climax stirring and then slowing as the pumping stalls, hands hold her gaze until mismatched eyes catch it. Vivid, enflamed, demanding.

Ifrital slows the strokes of her tail intentionally in her own mounting pleasure as she feels Light grip harder against her. Close, so close, from the way her legs shake and her cries become pleading. A mere push and she would tumble.

“Beg for me,” she whispers. Her thrusts come to a complete stop. Her hand slides from Light’s head onto her neck, making the woman look at her. “Beg for your Majesty to make you come.”

And she could come, she's so close, the twitching still stirs in her walls, closing helplessly around the unmoving tendril of scaled muscle.

Zenos watches all with interest. He does not miss the malice he garners from penetrating his own wife, a fascinating point in itself, but more fascinating still is how easily that glorious wrath melts from her face.

How Ifritah tames and tempers the flames while igniting them further, sending Light's face hot and flushed like blowing embers, how she so easily reduces her to small, vulnerable noises and open need.

How the tail from his mouth thrusts in and out of the warrior in a thick, sloppy noise, while Ifritah's own entrance has him like a blissful vice.

"Please," falls easily, thoughtlessly from her lips. Light's eyes only flicker down for a moment, too see how Zenos bulges in her lower half, then Ifritah's claws dig in - oh, how they'd scrape against her cunt if she would just - and Light looks back at her, teary.

"Y-your Majesty," She chokes, cunt throbbing in need as she squirms half-heartedly; she could throw herself on the tail if she wished but it wouldn't get her what she wants, "My Queen - please, oh gods please - please make me come, please, I want to - I want to come on your tail, please - _fuck!"_ The tremors only increase, "Ah, please!"

The high fills Ifritah at the words; the fulfillment she’d sought and more rushing through her. Perhaps not this in particular, but the pure ecstasy of fucking the Warrior of Light and making her beg. It was a gift, and she would cherish each moment- each _second_ of this tribute for as long as she could.

How truly delicious it is to know she had taken the thing he wanted most and claimed it for herself. It runs her mouth dry, pulling lips back into a smile that reveals a hint of fangs.

"You want this so badly, don't you," she coos, keeping Light's gaze focused on her. Her tail returns to its slow pace.

She pulls her hips up, so that his cockhead is at her entrance, and makes no move to push down. 

"You want me to fuck you until you're choking, don't you?" The grip on Light's neck tightens, her pace increasing with each tremor she feels between her legs. 

Ifritah swallows her own moan, a hefty breath parting her lips instead as she haltingly brings herself down on Zenos's cock in time with how she fucks the warrior. _Her_ warrior.

"You're so desperate, aren't you? I can feel how much you want this, but I can't hear you," she whispers the words to Light, her fangs peak to take the bottom of her lip into her mouth as she feels Zenos' fingers dig into the flesh of her ass. "Scream it. I want you to scream my name when you come."

Of the two women he watches - powerful, sweat-soaked bodies, muscled forms that tense and quiver under flesh and pressure - Zenos knows them both to be lost in need. 

It is impossible to say whose is greater; Light, he relishes seeing devolve into primal desire, her body raw and trembling under the force of it. Ifritah constricts around him, even as he feels her walls drive apart as she ruts, and he can hear the wicked satisfaction in her tone, the need for more -

Like fire consuming wood as it burns, she clutches Light for embers, demanding further fuel. The glorious slick shlip of her tail driving back in returns - and he knows the tense of her around him as well, even if she does not deign to attend him.

And why should she? Let her see what she can get from Light - Zenos will find his own release, and more satisfying still, he shall witness the results of this joining. 

Light knows - she knows, feels his eyes on her, heavy, excited, but more than that she knows what Ifritah wants, knows the hands on her neck and the friction of the scales rubbing at her entrance, filling her little by little in small thrusts.

It sends trills with her - _fuck you until you're choking_ , she can only mewl in helpless desire at the offer, nod so weakly in agreement, eyes glassy as she pants. Heavy breaths, pounding pulse, all of it throbbing against the fingers that wrap elegantly around her throat, the claws that dig so barely into skin, reminding her just who’s taking her now.

Ifritah bares her fangs and Light could _cry_ for how much she wants to feel them, she feels the tail stroke her walls and doesn't hesitate to stroke her ego.

"Please - yes," In and out the tail quickens, Ifritah gives her what she wants _what she needs_ and her words fall apart as her awareness does, lost in the throb of heat in her cunt that Ifritah lights aflame in delicious friction, "I'm - so desperate - for you, ah, _ah!_ If, Ifritah - ah, please please _please please_ yes gods please - my queen - gods, yes, _yes_ , **_Ifritah!"_ **

She whimpers as much as she cries when she comes, clutching at her, shuddering, clinging to her with a wail as she feels the rapture come awash. Flowing hot like the pound of blood, through her neck, flushing in her cheeks, swelling in her cunt that quivers in an uncontrollable mess as Ifriah's tail pulls waves of pleasure along, gushing slick from her entrance as she sighs in blissful release.

Ifrit allows herself short sighs, knowing that such sounds would be lost in the plethora of Light's pleasure. Her chest thrums as her heart races, blood pounding in her ears. Plush lips are parted, eyes lidded with desire as she hears the sound that could truly bring her to the peak of ecstasy - _I'm so desperate for you_. The grip on Light's neck tightens more, purple threatening to bloom beneath her grasp, and Ifritah practically laughs with joy.

"Yes, just like that-" Lips purse, drawing a thin line as she feels the walls restrain her tail. Eyes flutter close as she embraces the sensations; Light's needy moans, the walls of her cunt sliding against her tail, the heat of her skin beneath her touch. Light was a cool drink, and Ifritah was desperate to fall drunk by this taste. 

She continues to fuck her, even as she comes, and pulls her close so that their lips meet. Their kiss is an illustration of this need, this desire. She pulls the bottom of Light's lip with her fangs, and lets the blood from the force drip onto her tongue. Her breath is heavy, and though she does not show it completely, she is falling _apart_.

"Z-Zenos," she releases Light's throat from her grip, moving to pull on golden locks and draw him closer. Closer, if only she could have all their hands on her. It hangs on the tip of her tongue, her throat raw and dry. "Both of you, fuck me. **Now**."

Light stares over her shoulder where Zenos gazes back at her, at where his fingers dig hard into Ifritah's thighs, and hers fly down to slap them away - she lifts Ifritah off his cock, hears the wet noise of it slipping out and the sound she makes at its loss - and sneers at him.

"Stick that where you want, but I was here _first_." She lays a hand over Ifritah's cunt, dripping wet and gaping wide in the loss.

It soaks her hand easily; she has no trouble fitting in several fingers in while her other hand darts towards her inventory. She, too, must pull herself off from what impales her, and the loss sends her shuddering as well - but oversensitive, shivering, she lets the tail fall, slick and used, unfurling with strands of her release spiderwebbed across it.

In a rush she secures the strap onto herself, positioning her knees enough to level her hips with Ifritah's, lining the cock up with her entrance as she steadies her with a hand on her hip. She wastes no time sliding home; a smooth and easy fit after Zenos's girth, but what he had in size, she would more than make up for in ferocity... and in technique - her fingers once more find Ifritah's sex, sliding it open and then slipping up to the hood of her clit, running over it in strokes that match her pace, driving into her.

Zenos will not be outdone. Not so easily - one large hand paws at Ifritah's entrance; he only snorts to feel the fingers that pry him away, a fervor returned now that her release had been bought, but once he's well coated he retreats, shifting himself to better line him up with Ifritah's ass.

Light ignores him, which is well enough for now - but Ifritah will not, not when he rims the edge of her asshole with his slicked fingers, impatiently dipping one in, pumping it, and then another, sliding his cock from beneath her, wedged in her crack. But not for long.

She whimpers, a sound so unbecoming of her, when Zenos is pulled from her. Ifrit welcomes Light’s touch with fervent need, hands grasp onto the warrior’s shoulders to pull her ever closer. 

Of the three, Light’s skin must have been the hottest, fire still swelling beneath the surface from the previous orgasm. Scarred and scaled claws run along the length of her biceps, drinking the muscle that flexes with each thrust. Enchanted by Light’s work, she hardly notices Zenos behind her, displeased by the competition getting the better of him.

Her brow furrows with a yelp when she feels a thick finger edging her ass. Zenos slick cock rubs between the flesh of her ass and she knows what is to come. Torn between the deep dips of Light’s strokes, she fears that the next moment she will soon be naught but putty in the hands of these two. 

It must have driven either him jealous or mad, or perhaps the desire to be attended to, for the viceroy does not hesitate. In a single stroke, he brings her down onto him. He buries his cock into her, and without a moment of pause for adjustment, he grips her hips to match the pace Light had set. He would not be outdone, not by the warrior of light. This was another competition, a mere test. He had no intent to lose.

Ifrit can no longer hold back her cries of desire, not when Light pleases her so thoroughly. Not when Zenos brings her down so savagely onto him, filling and emptying her in quick strokes. Her breathing is heavy, labored. Mouth hung wantonly open, her words are lost on her tongue, buried beneath the lewd sounds of their coupling. She rests her forehead against the crook of Light’s neck, only to be yanked back by Zenos, so that her head would rest against his shoulder.

Her legs shake more and more with each thrust forward and her heart feels on the brink of collapse - so close, so close. She wants this to last forever, but doesn’t know if she can.

Zenos and Light meet eyes over Ifrit's shoulder, clashing wills - he feels his cock bulge inside her, how _tightly_ she squeezes him at the base, how much he must _fight_ to get it in, working himself against maddening friction with every ilm. 

He fought, ripped through, shoved himself in and fucked her raw without hesitation, gritting and baring his teeth in a ferocious grin as he wrung himself in and out of her hole, as she clenched against him and her heart raced in his grasp where he clenched on her shoulder, at her neck, pulling her to him.

And Light tore herself away from him so quickly - so easily - to grasp Ifrit's breasts in her hands, letting her legs fall open for her as Zenos thrusted, keeping an easy pace. She could pound into her mercilessly, without pain, with just a flick of powerful thighs, strong hips. Thumbs that drift over hardening nipples, caress the meat of her breasts as Light lowers her head to her chest, opening her mouth to suck marks and dig teeth into her collarbone.

As if to match her - Zenos brings one massive hand to cover Ifrit's right breast, easily holding it in his palm, catching the nipple at the base between his fingers, tugging with a light firmness as he clenched and worked it with prying fingertips.

Light falls to kiss a trail up Ifritah's neck, bared to her by Zenos's own movement. Lips ghosting over the column of her windpipe, soft breaths rolling over hot skin as she searched for her pulse, flitting, electric and burning to the taste. She laps at it, savors it, sighs gently to newly wetted skin and whispers, "So heated and ready, welcoming; does your husband not satisfy?" 

Zenos's eyes narrow at the implication but she takes no notice, her hand that had been on the breast he grabbed darting down towards where she pumps in and out of Ifritah, fingers worrying over where she plunges into her entrance and then rubbing up and down through her folds, maddeningly close to her clit.

The sensations of being so savagely fucked lines her eyes with tears, not of pain nor sadness. If she had the moment to think, perhaps she would know why she had begun to cry, but her mind is clouded with the thick fog of pleasure. Of Zenos's cock dragging through her, of Light’s attentive touches and kisses. She wishes to reply, but every word is replaced by a cry of pleasure and joy. Her fingers dig into Light’s arms to hold herself as the two thrusts into her. 

“L-Light—“ She practically sobs the words out, Zenos's hand tightening around her throat as he rubs between her folds. She wants to hold onto the rising peak, the pure euphoria that boils so rapidly in her chest. Though she is already in tears, how much longer could she endure? Her legs shake when she tries to tie them around the other woman’s waist, but they remain there as her feet hooking together. “Light please-“

Ifritah’s words are interrupted by her own moan. Eyes roll back as Zenos fingers rub circles against her clit, making her tighten against the two significantly. She can’t hear him through her own cries, but the heat of his breath against her neck and the vice-like grip on her throat tells her enough. He thrusts into her more and more, deeper each time, and she holds onto him – onto both of them – as a silent beg to not be emptied. When he brings her down onto him hard enough that her chest aches and she chokes, she feels his cock twitch within her and the sudden feeling of fullness as he comes.

He stays within her as he hooks his hands behind her knees to lift her legs onto Light’s shoulder, letting the strap drive deeper into her. He says something – perhaps a taunt – but she cannot hear. She is too preoccupied with chasing her own high. She cries out when she reaches it, hands gripping Light with as much strength as she could muster while muscles tensed. Her heart felt like it had been dropped into ice, her body falling happily limp against the two.


End file.
